


The Heart that Beats is Yours Inside Me

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter got out of prison, he spent his first night home with El but the second night belonged to Neal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart that Beats is Yours Inside Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/profile)[**theatregirl7299**](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/) who is a wonderful friend and deserves a gift fic. The title is from Over the Rhine's "Faithfully Dangerous." This is a timestamp to [Swim the Silent Slipstream Inside of Me](http://embroiderama.livejournal.com/485396.html), though you can read this one without that one.
> 
> Spoilers for the beginning of S5.

Neal squeezed his arms tight around Peter and smelled the trace of prison soap in his hair, on his skin. Neal held him tight and whispered in his ear, "I know you need to go home to Elizabeth, but tomorrow? Will you come to my place tomorrow?"

Peter nodded his head, a gentle nudge against Neal's shoulder. "Yes. Of course. Yes."

Neal let go then and stepped back because there was a slightly long hug between close friends who had been separated, and then there was a too-long hug that would make too many people pay too much attention. Neal met Elizabeth's eyes, and she gave him a nod and a gentle smile. She would share Peter again, and Neal wasn't sure if he deserved that but he wasn't going to argue.

That night, Neal was able to sleep better than he had in weeks, knowing that Peter was safe. Neal had tried to trust that Peter was competent at handling himself and that the protections that were in place, both official and illicit, would be enough to protect Peter from the worst dangers of prison. He was relieved that Peter had looked good--perhaps a bit thinner, worn and tired, but still healthy and strong. The problem was that Neal knew all too well how much damage a man could hide under the surface of a good suit and a nice smile.

Peter was still on leave the next day while Neal was required to work, but Neal was relieved when he came home to find Peter and June chatting in her sitting room. There was some light discussion, something about the petty indignity of prison coffee, but Neal could barely force himself to participate. As soon as he could manage, Neal made their excuses to June and kept a hand on Peter's back as they walked up the stairs.

Inside his apartment, Neal shut the door and pulled Peter into his arms again. Peter was dressed casually in a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and as Neal pressed his lips to Peter he slipped his hands under the layer of soft cotton to feel the warmth of Peter's body, the solid strength in his back. He was humiliated to feel tears forming behind his eyes, his breath suddenly unsteady, and all he could do was lean his forehead against Peter's and hold on tight as he tried to pull himself together.

"I'm okay," Peter murmured. "I'm okay. We're okay."

Neal backed up a step and thumbed the moisture out of his eyes. "Are you really? You would tell me if something had happened?"

Peter hesitated for just a second, then nodded. "I would tell you. It--" Peter looked away but took Neal's hand in his and ran his thumb across the meat of Neal's palm. "It wasn't fun. There were some experiences that I would very much like to never repeat, but nothing was done to me that wasn't part of the rules. Nothing that you haven't been through multiple times."

 _But I deserved it,_ Neal thought, though he didn't think it would help the situation to verbalize that. He stepped in close again, then cupped his hands around the back of Peter's head and kissed him gently but thoroughly until his head spun from the lack of oxygen. He and Peter swayed into each other, and Neal could feel Peter's panting breaths in his hair while he breathed in the smell of Peter's favorite soap, the one that smelled like pine and cedar, warm and natural.

"Will you let me fuck you?" Neal asked quietly, his voice as low and calm as he could make it.

"God, yes." Peter reached between them and unbuckled Neal's belt then unzipped Neal's fly and reached inside, the touch of his hand on Neal's cock slightly rough and dry and so, so welcome. "I need this."

Neal started walking backward toward his bed, bringing Peter with him as they pushed aside each other's clothes and leaned in for brief, hard kisses. When they reached the bed, Neal shrugged off the last of his clothes and got a condom and lube from the bedside table. When he turned around to see Peter sitting on the bed looking suddenly vulnerable in his nakedness, Neal hesitated.

"You're sure? That you want this?"

Peter sighed and reached out to cup his hand around the back of Neal's neck. "I'm very sure."

Neal saw a fading bruise on Peter's side, and he felt sick at the thought of what could have happened to Peter, the prison nightmares that Neal knew to be all too real even if he'd managed to escape them himself. Mostly. "What--" Neal's voice failed, choked in his throat. "You said you weren't hurt?" He traced his fingers over Peter's side, barely touching the bruised skin.

Peter looked down at himself and frowned then shrugged. "Somebody got a little over-enthusiastic when it came to moving me around, and I stumbled against a corner. It's fine."

"It's a bruise. Somebody _hurt_ you."

"I'm a big boy," Peter said gently. "I've had worse from doing work around the house."

Peter's words make sense, but Neal couldn't help the visceral hatred of whoever had hurt him. Neal flattened his palm against the bruise, watching Peter's face for a wince of pain that never came. "I want to be with you, but if anything happened--if anything happened, I don't want to hurt you."

Peter shook his head. "You won't. You remember our first time? My first time like this?"

"I do." It had been amazing, Peter letting him in, letting him close in a way Neal hadn't even let himself hope for. "I was careful."

"I know. And I don't want you to be so careful this time." Peter lifted one eyebrow and held his hand out. "Give me the bottle."

Neal handed over the lube and climbed up on the bed as Peter moved back to make room. He watched as Peter shifted part way onto his side and reached back between his legs to slick himself up. When he was ready, Peter passed the lube back to Neal, and Neal rolled on the condom and slicked himself up blindly. He couldn't take his eyes off the sight of Peter kneeling on his bed, Peter with his knees spread, his chest pressed down on a pillow, the muscles in his arms standing out as he braced himself on the bed. Neal's cock ached to push ahead but no matter what Peter said he needed to take his time.

"I didn't know if I'd ever have you here again," Neal admitted as he knelt behind Peter. He put his hands on Peter's hips, felt the curve of Peter's ass, then smoothed some extra lube into Peter's hole.

"I'm not going anywhere." Peter turned around to look back, his eyes dark and intent. "Do it."

Neal lined himself up and started to enter Peter slowly, but Peter met him halfway, pushing his hips back to make the penetration faster, harder. Neal gasped at the sudden heat and pressure around his cock, and he felt Peter tremble under his hands. "Good?" Neal asked.

"Goddamn right it's good," Peter growled. He pushed his hips back again, and Neal met him, finding a rough rhythm that took away the air needed for words. Neal listened to the mattress shaking, to his breath and Peter's, to the slap of skin and against skin. Peter's breaths turned into a needy, keening pant, and Neal bent closer, wrapping one arm around to take Peter's cock in hand.

Their rhythm stuttered and became more frantic, and seconds after Neal felt the wet rush of Peter coming in his hand he squeezed his eyes shut tight and let go. His hips shook against Peter's as light exploded behind his eyelids and when he slumped down to the bed his breathing felt like the aftermath of sobbing, desperate and ragged and grateful. He got himself together enough to pull out of Peter and dispense of the condom then collapsed back down to curl up with his head on Peter's chest.

Peter's sweat was on his lips, Peter's smell in his nose, Peter's heartbeat gradually slowing down under Neal's ear. Neal felt Peter's hand in his hair, stroking the damp mess of it back from his temple. _I'm never going to let you go away like that again,_ Neal thought, and he knew he'd do anything to make that true.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a timestamp [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2166360/chapters/4737432).


End file.
